Two hearts
by smaragdbird
Summary: John gets in a cab one day when Sherlock demands him to, and waits patiently as Sherlock directs them to the airport. He assumes there's a crime scene, and that Sherlock's inability to sit still on the ride there is excitement at a murder, and that his silence is thinking. He's wrong. (Victor Trevor/Sherlock Holmes)


From the way Sherlock fidgeted during the ride John assumed they would arrive at a murder scene, possibly already surrounded by journalists and photographers. However there was no police tape, no Lestrade, no crime scene unit vans anywhere in sight.

Sherlock jumped out of the cab before it had even stopped and was halfway through the doors before John managed to catch up. They were at the arrivals terminal and John noticed how Sherlock was craning his neck to see over the crowd of people in front of them.

"Who are you looking for?" John asked but Sherlock ignored him in favour of reading the arrival's list and muttering to himself.

"His plane wasn't late and he should be through the passport control already. He's probably just waiting for his luggage…"

"Who?" John asked again. Molly, Lestrade and Mrs. Hudson were all in London at the moment and he doubted that Mycroft coming back from abroad would have Sherlock behaving like this. On the other hand it was amusing to see Sherlock's head shoot up every time the doors opened to let newly arrived passengers out, like an over-exited child. Now, that was a thought, maybe they were waiting for Sherlock's parents…but before John could ask Sherlock had made his way through the crowd and more or less tackled a tall man with curly blond hair. The man wrapped his arms around Sherlock with a huge grin and spun him around, then cupped his face and kissed him.

John blinked. The rest of the people in the terminal saw nothing out of ordinary about Sherlock's unexpected and completely uncharacteristic behaviour. Well, one guy did shout "Get a room", which caused them to break the kiss, huge smiles still plastered over their faces.

"You spent the majority of your time in Thailand until you finally found the source in Cambodia two months ago and dismantled it", John heard Sherlock say as they walked towards him, hand in hand.

"Laos and it was two and a half months", the other man corrected him.

"John, this is Victor Trevor, my husband", Sherlock said as they reached him.

"Nice to meet you", John said and shook hands. "I'm John Watson, Sherlock's flatmate."

"I know. I read you blog whenever I got internet. You're quite famous", Victor said with a friendly smile. However John still didn't know what to make of this situation. It had to have shown on his face because Victor laughed and said, "Let me guess, he didn't mention me at all."

"No", John confirmed.

"You were undercover, I didn't want to threaten your work", Sherlock muttered.

"By which mean you thought he was flirting with you when he was merely making small talk and once you knew he wasn't you didn't know how to bring me up without making it awkward, am I right?"

"He did say he was married to his work, if that helps?" John asked.

"So I'm qualified as work now? That's oddly flattering considering how much you appreciate your work."

"As if you're any better."

Victor shook his head. "You're right. I'm completely devoted to my work. Nothing will ever keep us apart." He kissed Sherlock then, just to make his point.

"How long are you staying?"

"How long do you want me here?"

Sherlock shot him an annoyed look which left Victor unfazed. Instead he rested his hand in the small of Sherlock's back. "I'll tell you later."

They hailed a cab and climbed inside, Sherlock practically glued to Victor's side.

"So, how did you meet?" John asked. He was more than curious about Victor who unlocked a completely different side to Sherlock.

"At university, my dog bit him and I felt so guilty about it that I kept coming back."

"At which point I noticed that he was the only person there who used their brain", Sherlock added.

Victor gave Sherlock a fond look and continued with his story about their university days and how Sherlock had uncovered a family secret while visiting over the summer. It was a good story and it gave John an impression of Sherlock fifteen years ago, young and arrogant, lonely and trying his best to impress people which usually backfired.

John noticed how Sherlock seemed to be unable to look away from Victor and wondered how long they had been separated. It came as no surprise that Sherlock dragged Victor off to his bedroom as soon as they arrived back at baker's street.

"Who's that dashing young man, then?" Mrs Hudson asked just after the door closed behind them.

"His husband apparently", John said while putting the kettle on.

"Oh, dear, I thought he had left or I would have never assumed that you two were…" She trailed off.

John, who had been giving the milk a sceptical whiff to see if it was still edible, looked at her with surprise. "You knew?"

"There are things only married people know and he did", Mrs Hudson gave him a kind smile and took the milk from his hand. "You should throw that in the bin and get new one. They'll take a while."

Knowing she was right John grabbed his keys and switched the kettle off., thinking that 'a while' was an understatement.

/

If Victor could take picture with him it would be this: Sherlock on his bed, mussed hair, lips oink from kissing, half open eyes, every inch of him boneless and malleable. Or maybe this: Sherlock above him, is hand wrapped around Victor's cock, getting him off, completely and utterly concentrated on Victor alone. Or this: Sherlock laughing, looking years younger, until it died down and all that was left was that warm, affectionate expression on his face, as if Victor was a unique but strange treasure and Sherlock had no idea how he had managed to find him.

He could never quite make up his mind about that. Not that he needed to. His photographic memory allowed him to remember all three of them and more but remembering it was not the same as experiencing it.

"How long are you staying then?" Sherlock asked before Victor could get his breath back. Sex wasn't something Sherlock did and it had taken him nearly a year to convince Victor that jerking him off was not all that different from giving him a backrub and definitely didn't mean that Victor was taking advantage of him.

"They're offering me a promotion" Victor said, watching Sherlock's face closely. "It'd be more of a desk job here in London."

"Are you going to take it?" Sherlock's voice betrayed no emotion.

"Do you want me to take it?"

"I can't make that decision for you."

"I'm asking you to make it with me. Do you want me here?"

"Don't pretend to be stupid." Sherlock snapped.

"I'll take that as a yes, then." Victor smiled when Sherlock rolled his eyes at him. "And I'm sure John can deal with another flatmate on top of everything else you have thrown at him." He added before Sherlock could even open his mouth.

"I always forget how annoying it is when you do that."

"Pot and kettle, Sherlock."


End file.
